Let It Bleed
by hohlagh
Summary: The eclipse was coming and there was nothing anyone could do to change that. Pretty soon everyone with powers would be left defenseless and open to an attack, which probably explained why Noah Bennet was chasing after Sylar… Sylar is seriously injured, Peter plays the hero, and Noah is left without his captive. AU, OoC, Sylar/Peter if you squint


**Title**: Let It Bleed

**Author**: l_anaki/hohlagh; aka Lord Anaki

**Rating**: PG-13/T

**Genre**: Hurt/Comfort

**Disclaimer**: All characters you may recognize belong to Tim Kring, NBC, and everyone else who helped make Heroes possible. Also, I am making no money from the posting of this fic.

**A/N**: I haven't watched all of Heroes so this will most likely be a little AU and possibly OOC.

* * *

The eclipse was coming and there was nothing anyone could do to change that. Pretty soon everyone with powers would be left defenseless and open to an attack, which probably explained why Noah Bennet was chasing after Sylar…

Noah was keeping his distance though and – for some reason he couldn't understand – Sylar ran instead of turning to face him. Perhaps Sylar was just baiting him or maybe playing a game of cat-and-mouse; but, then again, Sylar could know of the eclipse as well and was just trying to find somewhere to hide until it passed. Whichever the case, Noah kept the mass murderer in his sights and had his gun out, poised to shoot as soon as he could. Just a little bit longer now… The sky was beginning to darken while the seconds stretched by.

Then the sun finally disappeared and everything went black for a moment before the street lights flickered to life. The relative silence was suddenly broken by a gunshot as Noah fired at Sylar while his eyes were still adjusting. Sylar stumbled a bit, but he kept running through the pain. He spotted an open garage door and quickly ducked inside. He ran to the back, finding a door on the far left, and went on in. He could only hope that he wasn't bleeding enough to leave a trial… He leaned back against the wall, breathing labored, as he strained his ears for the sound of Bennet. He didn't hear anything. He deemed himself safe for the moment and peered at the wound: the bullet had clipped him in the right arm, somewhere around his bicep. It didn't look too bad, as far as he could tell; however, the pain might slow him down. He was just starting to tear at his shirt with one hand – desperate to put a bandage on the injury so he wouldn't have to worry about bleeding too much – when there was a crash of garbage cans falling over nearby, then another gunshot.

This time Sylar let out a yelp and cursed inwardly to himself before running off. He was limping now though. Damn it… He had to wonder if Bennet just had poor aim or was simply trying to incapacitate him for capture. Sylar spotted an empty train yard ahead that would make a perfect hiding place since there were so many box cars to choose from and he quickened his pace despite the injuries, marshaling through the pain. It was too dark for him to notice, but he was leaving a trail of blood behind. He managed to get to the train yard without incident and glanced back for a moment as he once again strained his hearing. There was nothing there. He turned and ran into Peter, literally.

"Sylar…? What the—"

"Shh." Sylar grabbed him and pulled the other smaller man against a box car. "He might still be following me."

"Who is? What's going on?" Peter's eyes adjusted to the light (or the lack thereof) and that was when he noticed the wounds. "Oh my God, Sylar, you're bleeding."

Sylar chose that moment to slump a bit as he caught his breath. Peter now looked concerned. He didn't know what to do at first. On one hand Sylar had killed him – twice – and, on the other, he just couldn't turn away from someone that needed help. It was just in his nature to be a hero, he supposed. He looked Sylar over and couldn't stop himself from smirking when he saw a small rip in the hem of what had once been a white shirt. At least the other man had had enough sense to try making a bandage, but had obviously stopped before completing his task. The eclipse would last for another few minutes or so (the longest one the East Coast had seen in years – or so the news claimed) and in that time Sylar could very well bleed to death or go into shock or any number of things.

Peter put his finger to his lips, signaling for silence, and then pulled off his shirt. He quickly started to wrap Sylar's leg. Sylar remained quiet throughout the whole process and just gritted his teeth. The tourniquet was quick and messy, but it worked. Once the eclipse was over then it wouldn't even matter anymore since Sylar was fully capable of healing himself. Peter then jerked his thumb at the box car they were currently hiding behind after he had finished. It took some effort on Sylar's part; however, he soon made it inside with Peter's help. They were both silent for a while.

"Thank you." Sylar finally said when he felt it was safe. "I don't know why you're even helping me…" He was genuinely confused.

Peter snorted and shrugged his shoulders. "It's just what I do."

"Even for someone like me? I tried to kill you."

"Well, I can't leave you like this… You're wounded and bleeding."

Sylar hummed in the back of his throat for a moment, not sure how to respond.

"I just wish I had some better light." Peter complained. "That leg looks horrible. Does it hurt much?"

"I can manage."

They fell silent again. The seconds ticked by. They could hear the gravel crunching outside as someone walked around the train yard… searching. Sylar raised his head slightly and pursed his lips before he allowed himself to look down at his leg. The bullet hadn't just clipped him like the last one. This injury was no graze or scrape; no, it was something much more serious and he had no idea what to do about it. Peter had heard the noise too and stood up. Despite everything, he felt compelled to help.

"I think he's looking for the trail. You were bleeding pretty badly." Peter said. "If you don't want him to find you here then we should move."

"We?" Sylar echoed.

Peter glanced back before standing up and then offered his hand. Sylar was either intelligent or desperate (or maybe both) because he grabbed at that thin shred of hope like a drowning man would a lifesaver. He managed to get to his feet, but now he could barely put any weight on his left leg at all without making it twinge or spasm. Peter frowned somewhat before maneuvering himself so he could support the other man.

Sylar grunted out: "How long?"

"Two minutes, but we don't have time to wait." Peter said. The noise was coming closer now, approaching the box car that they had chosen. "We have to move now. Can you do it?"

Sylar gave a nod and they were off. They couldn't leave the same way they had entered though; they would have to find a different way. They walked to the end of the car and found it was connected to another one, which came as a relief. Peter opened the side door slowly, hoping against hope that it wouldn't creak on rusty hinges or something. It swung away without protest though and Peter slowly stuck his head out. He didn't see the signs of anybody nearby nor could he hear the crunching of gravel anymore. He jumped down first, leaving Sylar there to clutch onto the doorway for support. There was another box car a few feet across from them and they could easily get there without too much trouble. Peter gestured impatiently for Sylar to jump down.

Sylar landed awkwardly with a small grunt and he stumbled a bit as he tried to catch his balance. Peter grabbed his left arm and slung it back over his shoulders. He jerked his head towards the other box car, indicating their destination, and they were off again. It was a short distance, but they only got about halfway before Peter was pulled to a stop. Sylar was still physically stronger than the younger Petrelli despite his injuries.

"Sylar, we're almost there." Peter barely whispered the words.

Sylar didn't respond though. He was breathing heavily and he looked pale as well as sweaty, even in the dim light. The eclipse was approaching the ending point, but – unfortunately – the shadow would have to be completely gone from the sun before either of their special powers returned. They weren't out of danger yet and they were so close. So close to escape that Peter could almost taste it, if that were possible.

"C'mon," Peter urged, "I know you can do this."

"My leg…" Sylar finally groaned.

Peter glanced down for a moment and almost wished he hadn't. The mock-tourniquet was covered in blood. "Just a bit further, I promise."

Sylar closed his eyes and relented somewhat, allowing Peter to continue. They finally made it to the other box car and Peter clambered up first. He felt bad about leaving Sylar alone and the guilt was crushing him as he watched the man sway slightly. He shook himself out of it though as he reached down to help Sylar up. There was a burning pain in Sylar's left leg then as the muscles stretched in a natural but uncomfortable way, rubbing against the bullet wound. He almost screamed; instead he just arched his neck and grimaced. Peter managed to get him up the step – which wasn't even that big in retrospect – with brute power. He slowly closed the door and then leaned back against the wall to catch his breath. Sylar wasn't doing much better as he simply just laid there on the cold hay-strewn floor.

They stayed like that in relative silence as the seconds continued their slow agonizing progress, counting down until the eclipse would end and their powers would return. Peter felt it first; then again he was an empath so maybe that helped… And the first thing he sensed was the pain. It was just horrible. It made his heart ache. The worst part was the fact that he knew it was all coming from Sylar. While some would say that the mass murderer deserved such treatment, Peter wouldn't wish it on anyone. He sat there, waiting, and he wasn't sure why. His common sense told him to run while he could; that Sylar would be back to his usual self as soon as he had repaired the damage… But Peter just couldn't leave.

"Why are you here?" Sylar suddenly asked.

"Oh! I was practicing some new powers in this train yard since it seemed like a good place at the time. Needless to say, I didn't expect us to run into each other again."

Sylar snorted somewhat. "That wasn't what I meant."

"I wanted to make sure you were okay. Your pain levels must be off the scale…" Peter mumbled. "I kind of pick up on emotions easily... And you still haven't even healed yourself yet."

"I'm tired."

Peter moved closer at that. He had never known Sylar to be the type to admit to any kind of weakness. The box car they had chosen for their second hiding place had no roof or top and so the sunlight was beginning to filter in. It wasn't ideal lighting by any stretch, but it would do for now. Peter eyed the tourniquet for a moment then.

"I can help you more, if you let me."

Sylar just gave a nod before resting his head back. Peter bit the bottom of his lip at the reaction, not liking it one bit, and yet all he could do was slowly start to untie the knot he had made with his shirt sleeves. He finally pulled the bloody garment away and tossed it. He definitely wouldn't be wearing it again after this. He put his hands on the wound. He didn't need to see how bad it was. He didn't need to know where the bullet had hit or what it had done. All he needed was contact and sympathy and it would heal. He gently pushed his power forward. He could feel the knitting and repairing underneath his fingers; through the jeans that Sylar had on. He could feel the pain levels edging back down and a small smile of relief touched his face then.

"How did you do that?" Sylar wondered when Peter was done. "I've never been able to heal other people before…"

Peter shrugged slightly. "I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm an empath so I can use Claire's power differently."

The younger Petrelli moved to Sylar's right bicep, but – after a quick examination – he noticed that it was just blood. The wound was already gone. He glanced over at the other. Sylar just smirked and closed his eyes. Peter could feel the emotions settling. The pain was completely gone now, but it had been replaced by exhaustion. So he stayed there despite his better judgment and spoke out again: "I know you're probably tired, but you can't rest here for long. You said you were being followed earlier. He'll find the evidence of your blood and track you down."

"I know."

Sylar made no move to get up though. Peter frowned and he wasn't quite sure why he offered at all, but he just couldn't help himself… "I can teleport us out of here."

"Why?"

"Because it's the right thing to do. Because I care. Because I'm not capable of simply leaving you here when you're still recovering. Because it's just in my nature, I suppose."

Sylar snorted; however, he made no comment. He let his hand fall open and waited. Peter grabbed the hand without thinking and closed his eyes as he focused on his destination. Within moments the train yard disappeared to be replaced by a beautiful secluded beach. Peter dropped Sylar's hand. "You'll be safe here." Peter said. "You can move on whenever you're ready."

Peter stepped back and focused again, then vanished into thin air. Sylar stared at the spot for a moment or two. "Thank you… Peter."

FIN


End file.
